


At Dusk

by Asallia



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: AU, Angst, Destroy Ending, F/F, First Meetings, Post-Canon, how's this for a rarepair, yeah this ship is a thing now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asallia/pseuds/Asallia
Summary: After the war, two people from different worlds find each other.





	At Dusk

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of context - I spent a decent chunk of time earlier this year working on a long trilogy/Andromeda crossover based on an AU where the Andromeda Initiative never left the Milky Way. It just wasn't coming together the way I wanted it to, though, and I've since scrapped it. I probably won't come back to finish it. That being said, I still adore the concept and the main premise behind shipping these really random characters, so I thought I'd take the best chapter from the story and turn it into a one-off. Thanks for reading!

Shepard should have been dead – that was how everything was supposed to turn out. She’d activate the weapon, save the galaxy, then finally take that permanent vacation she had been fantasizing about ever since she was first denied it.

Instead, here she was at a shiny new home on the Pacific coast (courtesy of the Alliance, of course), reconvening with her old crew and celebrating her _“Hooray, You’re Not Dead After All!”_ party. She didn’t particularly feel like that was something to celebrate, though, given the circumstances. There was a certain _something_ hanging over the festivities, an understanding that she wasn’t really supposed to be here. It may have been a party, but everyone was still mourning her. They wouldn’t have admitted it if they even knew that was the case, but it was true.

It had been a month, after all – a fucking _month_ – before what remained of her body was dragged out of the wreckage of the Citadel, battered and near-unrecognizable. It had been an extra four months until she became conscious. How she was alive by the time they found her was a question to even Miranda, who would simply shrug when questioned. Shepard just liked to assume that it was a case of ‘freakish tenacity meets ethically dubious engineering’. Maybe it was just the Illusive Man’s final middle finger.

Regardless, her crew didn’t seem to have any trouble enjoying themselves despite the malaise hanging over everything. Maybe it was really just in her head, Shepard thought to herself. Maybe not. (There were too many ‘maybe’s here for her comfort.)

While most of the crew were dancing and drinking their cares away, a few of the politically-connected members of the crew were huddled by the kitchen table with Shepard on the outer edges of the fray, engaged in a light-hearted debate of some intergalactic news that she had yet to be caught up with. On Shepard’s left was Liara, delivering a passioned defense of _something_ that Shepard didn’t particularly feel the need to tune into. Garrus and Tali were huddled close immediately to her right, Tali’s head resting on his shoulder.

Of the myriad of things that night making her sick to her stomach, that sight was chief among them. She had always thought that her and Garrus had _something_ together, particularly after rescuing him from Omega. He was her best friend alongside Tali and Liara, but he was something more, too. Garrus had been there through thick and thin, even more so than the other two, and had always been _her_ shoulder to lean on. There was a spark between the two of them, something resembling love but not quite fully formed.

Perhaps it was her fault that those feelings had never developed, then; she never initiated the next step of what could have been, having long ago convinced herself that she wouldn’t make it out of her fight with the Reapers alive. Call it intuition or premonition, whatever – she certainly would have been right if she was anyone else, and she hadn’t wanted to put Garrus though it. He deserved to not have to mourn a lover, and she felt as if she had signed her death warrant long before hitting the ground in London.

Still, the reasons didn’t matter. She never said anything and he never said anything. She died (but not really), and he moved on. By the time she had woken up, he and Tali had come together in the dark days immediately following the war. She couldn’t fault them for that, as much as it hurt.

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Shepard knew she needed some fresh air if she was going to make it through this party.

She got up from her place at the table and silently made her way around the crew, grabbing a beer from the fridge and her guitar from its stand as she attempted to shuffle out the back door without anyone noticing. She loved being able to catch up with everyone, she really did, but she needed peace and quiet for a while. Seeing Garrus and Tali so comfortable together was rough on her spirit.

Thankfully, everyone was occupied enough that she was able to successfully steal away to the beach outside without any trouble. She wasn’t sure whether or not to be disheartened that everyone was too distracted to let her leave, but she tried not to sweat the detail.

The bite of the crisp night air hit her as she crossed the doorway and the wind blew her hair every which way. She heard the crickets calling out to each other somewhere in the distance, saw the waves crashing up against the shore. Shepard drifted towards the water, unceremoniously plopping down in front of the tidemark and digging a pick out of her pocket. In short order the beer was cracked open and she relished a few slow sips before she wedged it in the sand and picked the guitar up off her lap. Music was an old creature comfort of hers, one she had picked back up recently as she grasped for something familiar. She was eager to play something that fit the mood, so she settled on a folk tune that she had heard recently – it was a simple melody that conjured a melancholic feeling.

As Shepard plucked it over and over again, only adding slight variations with each repetition, she contented herself to gaze out at the endless expanse of ocean in front of her. When she chose this place to live after the war, it had seemed fitting; there was some small amount of finality at the edge of the world for a woman who had long been denied that very thing. Maybe it was a cynical sentiment, she thought, but she had always lived for a bit of melodrama here and there.

Regardless, she couldn’t imagine anything better than those peaceful nights. Though she would always miss the low hum of the SR-2’s engines, she wouldn’t trade this tranquility and the ambiance of nature for anything else in the galaxy.

When Shepard saw someone walking down the beach, then, some petty part of her mourned that tranquility, even if only for a moment while the figure made their way past.

While she waited, Shepard tried out a new melody she had been writing. It was an intricate pattern of finger plucking and strumming, all intertwined into something soft and tender.

“Mind me asking what you’re playing?”

_That voice… are those subvocals?_

Shepard fumbled the melody the instant she looked up to see a turian woman towering over her. Suddenly, another presence was less an annoyance and more a curiosity.

The turian laughed a bit at the slip up, adjusting her gait to be a bit casual, likely a conscious choice in a part of the galaxy where anti-turian prejudice could run high. Shepard quickly felt a pang of guilt for being so visibly startled, but she tried not to sweat it; she had a house full of aliens just nearby, after all.

“Just a little something I’ve been working on, is all. I’ve got the melody down, but I’m still stuck on the lyrics,” Shepard mused. “Haven’t known many turians to take an interest in human music.” She left a question implied, not wishing to prod if the stranger didn’t want her to.

The turian laughed once again. “Around here, it’s rare for anyone to have even _met_ a turian, yet alone many.”

“Yeah, well, I get around.” The turian had captured her interest, so she pointed to the patch of sand next to her in a silent offer to join her that the turian took up.

As the turian lowered herself down, she visibly studied Shepard using what little light emanated from the moon overhead – Shepard noticed her eyes lingering on the scars, which were the only feature of her face fully visible thanks to the soft, orange light they emitted.

“Alliance?”

Shepard shrugged, internally grateful that she somehow hadn’t been recognized. “At one point in time, yeah.”

Soon Shepard resumed the melody she had been plucking out before, and neither particularly felt the need to speak up. Both looked out at the sea, willing to let the litany of questions drift away for the time being. The sound of guitar was complimented by the rush of the waves and the dim sounds of the party, creating a soft atmosphere that two strangers shared together.

Only the end of the song broke that moment, as Shepard concluded with one final strum of a G chord, leaving the two to the sound of the ocean.

“So why aren’t you up there?” The turian looked pointedly at Shepard’s home, where several silhouettes were visibly dancing and drinking in the warm glow of the light.

Shepard shrugged yet again. She dug her feet into the sand, savoring the cool sensation against her skin. “Too much… everything, I think. Maybe I got sick of playing a part. The people up there are family to me, but there’s a disconnect lately. No one’s fault.”

The turian gave a knowing look, and a wordless solidarity connected them for a fleeting moment. “Yeah, I know how that feels.” She noticed Shepard’s feet buried in the sand and soon enough had her own feet out of her armor, buried as well. Shepard wasn’t even sure if the turian could feel the cool sand below, but the sight was endearing.

“When I was young, I moved to Omega for a while,” the turian silently spoke. “Trying to find work and all that. Barely had a month’s worth of credits to my name, and no one was willing to rent me out a place on the promise that I’d have more soon. Wasn’t particularly interested in trying an even worse part of the city either.”

Having seen the worst that Omega had to offer, Shepard could certainly understand that sentiment.

“Anyways, on day two there I’m at the market to try and shoplift some basics. Wasn’t proud of it, but I didn’t have much choice. I was looking after my little sister, so there was another mouth to feed. I’m about to get away with a couple things, but some old fart of a merc catches me while we’re at the same stall. Grabs all the shit I had stolen and takes it back to the merchants, then drags me away. I’m absolutely terrified by that point, but he just… _talks_ to me. Asks me what I’m doing and why.”

She shivered a bit and wrapped her arms around herself before slipping her feet back into her armor. Shepard knew that it was a perfectly comfortable temperature out for a turian, but she didn’t say anything.

“I tell him I was just trying to get some basics and find a place to stay. I tell him about my sister, about how I had just been trying to take care of her. And after all of that, he takes me under his wing, gives us a place to stay, shows me how to handle a gun. Wouldn’t have been able to navigate Omega without his help. I’m eternally grateful to him for that.”

She let out a long sigh and stretched a bit before speaking up again. Her feet lifted out of the sand and shook themselves clean. “Anyways, point being, he had an old record player in his place. Used to keep on whatever music he could find floating around the station. All human stuff, obviously. I couldn’t stand it, but I wasn’t about to tell him that after what he had done for me so I just stuck it out. It grew on me a lot, though, even more than turian music after a while. Never could stand those fucking military anthems anyways,” she laughed.

Shepard laughed too. “I have an old turian friend who would be devastated to find out that I agree with you.”

“I promise I can keep your secret,” the turian said with a playful nudge. It was a sign of physical affection that caught Shepard off guard, even as small as it was. Still, it wasn’t entirely unwelcome, she thought.

“I’m honestly not sure why I just told you all of that. Something about you just made me want to spill it all out.”

“I’m good at that,” Shepard said with a grin. She had figured out early on that inspiring loyalty in her crew was 90% about being a good listener.

The turian went silent for a bit, as if contemplating something, before speaking up once again. “I’m Vetra, by the way.”

Shepard smiled, perhaps a bit wider than she meant to. “Jane.”

They spent a while together on that moonlit beach, talking about this and that. Shepard eventually found herself recounting her own past growing up homeless in Manhattan, as much as it pained her – this turian just seemed like the one person in the galaxy who might understand at the moment.

“It was… rough. When I turned 16, I finally worked up the guts to buy a fake ID and enlist with the Alliance. I still feel guilty for leaving some people behind, but it was the best thing I ever did for myself.”

“Yeah,” Vetra whispered. That word carried heavy baggage with it – it was clear that she was thinking about her own past, but once again, Shepard didn’t want to push. Instead, she continued.

“It was strange, though, how disconnected I felt after enlisting. I thought I’d find a home in the Alliance, but it was all colony and spacer kids around me. No one got what it was like growing up the way I did. No one got all that… _rage,_ all that hatred, that had built up in me after years of being forced through the gang system. Even the military couldn’t handle it. It took a mentor or two before I met someone who could understand and shape those emotions into something more tangible, something helpful to the Alliance.”

What Shepard didn’t say is how that energy manifested itself. She had developed a reputation as soon as she was given a field assignment. _That vanguard is nice, sure, but give her a gun and she turns into a wild fucking animal_ , is how a soldier she had overheard summed it up. As much as it had hurt to be reduced to that, the soldier hadn’t really been wrong.

Outside the battlefield, she was always considerate and surprisingly quiet – it took a few years in the force until she was able to project herself in the way that she was so well known for. On the battlefield, though, there was never any competition to see who could confirm the most kills.

_See a group of enemies. Blink into the fray. A couple shotgun shells and they’re down. Don’t worry if your shields are down. Rinse and repeat._

It had been the perfect mix of cold efficiency, bloodlust, and recklessness that had defined her as a fighter – that thought sent shivers through her. She wasn’t proud of it, to be certain. She had always wanted to be defined by how she treated her crew, her love of music and military tradition, but those had been overshadowed. Even now, those passions felt elusive. Maybe they’d abandoned her, maybe not.

She shook off that path of thought, though, and returned to the turian sitting next to her. Vetra was emitting a quiet hum from her subvocals, one that Garrus used to give out when he caught Shepard having a rage fit in her quarters. It was concern, but it was something more as well – something akin to empathy, maybe. Shepard had never been very good at translating turian concepts into human terms.

“Sorry, uh…” Shepard scratched her head just to give her hand something to do. “My mind derailed for a bit there.” She picked up the guitar and cradled it, just to give herself something to do again. Sitting still somehow seemed wrong to her in that moment.

“You should head back up, they’re probably wondering where you went.” Vetra gave her a soft look, one that felt oddly soothing.

Shepard took a swig of her beer before letting out a sigh. “Yeah… you’re right. I wish you weren’t, but you are.”

Vetra immediately hopped up onto her feet with the same turian efficiency that always managed to catch Shepard off guard and offered her a claw, lifting her up.

Touching it felt strange to Shepard, like déjà vu. She had to remember that this wasn’t Garrus, but someone entirely her own. Still, there was something warm and comforting about the sensation of rough claws against the smooth skin of her hand. It made her feel safe, as much as it would have shamed her to admit it.

Pushing past those thoughts, Shepard prepared to trek back up the dune to her home. She suspected that Vetra was right – they probably were concerned up there, and she didn’t want to make that worse if she could help it.

“Will I see you around?” Shepard flashed a smile at Vetra, one that was reciprocated with a slight movement of mandibles that most wouldn’t even have picked up. Shepard, though, knew a turian grin when she saw one.

“Yeah, I think so,” Vetra said with subvocals that hinted towards… _something_ , Shepard thought. She wasn’t quite sure what, though.

Vetra turned around and walked the way she came, even more of an enigma than before. Shepard stood still for a few minutes, content to watch the turian melt into the night – until she heard footsteps in the sand behind her.

“Jane, what are you doing? We were all starting to get worried, you know.”

Shepard turned around to see Liara, who had her hands on her hips and a look of concern plastered across her face. It was a look that Shepard knew well, and she wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

So she put a hand on Liara’s shoulder, motioning back towards the house. “Yeah, sorry about that. Just had a little chat with someone walking by,” she said. Truth be told, it _was_ nothing more than that, but there was something else there. Even if it was only something small, it was an experience that Shepard wanted to herself for the time being. Liara may have been her best friend, but not even the Shadow Broker needed to know everything. “I didn’t miss the cake, did I?”

Liara laughed and put her arm around Shepard’s back as they meandered up the sandy slope. “Is that all you’re concerned about? Disappear from your own party again and I’ll feed the entire thing to Grunt.”

“You _wouldn’t_ ,” Shepard exclaimed with mock horror.

She wouldn’t be able to take her mind off that damn turian any time soon, but Shepard thought she might finally be ready to enjoy her party.


End file.
